


Muay Thai Fighting

by Aliucon



Category: King of Fighters, League of Legends
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Crossover, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 05:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2761328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliucon/pseuds/Aliucon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So a bouncer and a monk clash inside a random bar...</p><p>(This is also how Lee Sin decided to get his Muay Thai skin. ... Well, not really, but I like to think it is.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muay Thai Fighting

A yap, a gasp, cries of pain, the door opening and a thud. Out went one more troublemaker.

                There was nothing remarkable in that. The bar had enough of them in a fortnight to fill the entire local prison with delinquents, if charges came into play. Often they didn’t, but it wasn’t like the bar lacked defenses as it was. Not when they had such a strong bouncer. So strong, in fact, that she had been invited multiple times to the “King of Fighters” tournament. And how appropriate: her name so happened to match the first word of said tournament, and had an intimidating aura to boot.

                Casting a last glance on the rascal she had just thrashed, King walked back to the building she had just been at. The bar was roomy and well-furnished as usual, with dozens of its tables already occupied and the clients expecting their favorite alcoholic poison to be delivered, readily draining their mugs whenever it came around. It was a mess, but the acceptable kind of mess. Not the one she would have to bother with.

                Some jazz played through the speakers spread through the room’s four corners. No one was really listening to it: most seemed to care only for their own conversations and discussions, tampered by the liquid drugs on their hands, but King reveled in taking it easy by a corner and drowning her mind in the aforementioned tune. She knew that those moments of bliss were always short-lived anyway, at least while it was her shift. At any moment, the sound of glass breaking, people yelling or some other unsettling situation would bring her out of the trance, so she might as well just enjoy while it was possible.

                A few minutes elapsed, however, and the song changed once, without any signs of trouble. The bouncer kept scrolling her eyes around the clients at her leisure. She knew the regulars, and had entertained one or two chats with some, but avoided talk altogether. While some visitors were OK, like Wolfy and Ryo, others just let their despicable side arise, disputing with comrades and blatantly hitting on the waitresses. Thankfully, during her brief scouting, she saw enough to determine that the day would, as rare as it was, be a calm one. Not many red faces nor mean ones. She might just get out in her scheduled time that day.

                There was one person, however, which she couldn’t tell what to expect of. Mainly because she could scarcely see its face: it was half-covered by a hooded sleeveless robe, and the bar’s lack of lights didn’t help in distinguishing features. It was obviously a man, underweight but muscular, as evidenced by his arms. He wore gloves, some beads as a bracelet in his right hand and baggy black trousers.  He hadn’t just appeared now either: he had been on the bar since the start of King’s shift, and with not the mind to ask for any beverage, kept either still like a statue or fidgeting with the salt and sugar containers.

                The bouncer puzzled over that apparition for some time, and only thought little of the matter because the work didn’t even leave her proper room to breathe in peace. But now that stillness overcame the surroundings, she found herself staring at the mysterious customer. That is, until a hand touched her shoulder. Upon looking over it, King saw the gray hair and whiskers of her current, temporary employer and owner of the bar, a peeved look upon his face.

                “Oy, King. ‘ink you can do something ‘bout that fellow?”

                Instead of pointing to any miscreant with King might have missed, he pointed directly to the man in the hooded robe, the former object of her interest.

                “… Uh, him?” She tilted her head. “Was he causing trouble?”

                “Nay, but he ain’t having that table for free all night ‘bout, I tell ya. I’ll lose them clients if one man takes the space of four or more.” And with a snarl, he headed back to an inner wing of the bar whence he had come.

                King decided she should just do it and not dwell on the fairness of the order. She wouldn’t be rude, if she could help it, but coaxing the man out of the bar seemed to be the way to go there. So she started towards the hooded man’s table. She hadn’t gone two steps before the individual turned his head slightly towards her, though his expression was still impossible to read.

                It was when she was a good 10 feet within his range that he reacted again to her.

                “Your smell is strange to me. You’re not who I am waiting.”

                King stopped on her tracks at this strange greeting, made to the sound of a strong voice tainted by an equally strong chinese accent.

                “… Run that by me again?”

                Her tone was notably an angry one, and that was simply because she understood she had just been called “smelly” by the customer for no apparent reason. Sure she dressed like a man, but was as tidy as ever in her habits, as opposed to the ruffians that frequented the bar.

                “I have been waiting for someone. Don’t disturb me.” And he turned his face away from the blonde fighter.

                “Waiting for whom?”

                “A person I used to know.”

                Well, that wasn’t very specific. King shrugged.

                “How long have you been waiting for him?”

                “Time does not bother me.”

                How exactly is one so carefree with time? Was he a hobo? The robe didn’t look like a rag, though. Maybe he was just kidding.

                “… Well, actually, you occupying a table without ordering anything isn’t helping the bar at all,” she said, carefully. “So could I suggest you wait on a single chair or elsewhere…?”

                The man didn’t reply for a minute or so. As it seemed to King, he was staring down a barmaid several yards forward in his line of sight, though when the girl took an order and moved, his head kept looking at the same place, now apparently interested in the wallpaper of the establishment. Finally, he showed signs of life.

                “You work here?”

                “Yes, I do.”

                “A waitress, like the other one?”

                “Nope, I’m a bouncer.”

                Another silence. Shorter this time, but King saw her patience being tried every time that happened. At least some progress had been made: the mysterious guy rose from his chair.

                “I would much prefer to wait exactly here, but I give you the opportunity to show you’re serious about this request of yours.”

                A fighting stance quickly threw King in alert. The sentence itself hadn’t been that menacing, but it was obvious that the man now wouldn’t budge from the bar without a fight. Geez. She should have expected it.

                The man used a peculiar stance. He shifted back and forth, his arms loose and slightly forward on each of his sides. It seemed amateurish, and yet King could swear the man left no openings for her there. Was she just tired, or was the man more capable than he might want to show?

                Assuming the usual poise for her martial arts, which was Muay Thai, the girl stood ready. Good thing too, because the first attack, initiated by the hooded man, soon followed: he shot a single sonic wave from one hand. King thought she blocked it with both arms covering her head, but a low and lasting sound ensued, and when she removed her block to look at her opponent, he was already going towards her lighting fast with a flying kick. Said kick landed true squarely on the defender’s face, half a second later.

                King’s senses dulled at the strike, and she only recovered from the shock when she had already flown through the window and sent two thirds of the bar into violent hysterics. She struggled to her feet, and visualized her opponent farther ahead.

                “Venon Strike!” She yelled, trying a spin kick and producing a blue energy ball that sped towards the man. The warrior jumped over it and towards King, which responded quickly, closing their distance gap by jumping back from the window frame to the bar, and delivering a kick, knee, and then a second kick right into the man’s stomach. The last kick was a violent one, knocking the man into the balcony.

                Either he had an iron skin or an iron head, but at any rate, the flurry of attacks didn’t daze him in the slightest. He was probably hurt, but jumped with amazing ease to a nearby customer, gaining some sort of green… shield after that? When he followed in the assault, it was with two punches and a kick which King had no difficulty in defending, but couldn’t respond without leaving herself open to retaliation.

                In the heat of battle, however, we make decisions that are often stupid to those who watch in cool blood.

                “Tornado Kick!” Another yell followed the attack, which consisted of a spread spinning kick with both legs after a low but long jump. It wasn’t very effective, as her opponent sidestepped to avoid damage, and proceeded to smash the ground with one hand, causing a small tremor. It had the effect of throwing King off-balance as soon as she landed, when she inevitably fell over to the ground.

                Seizing that chance, the hooded man proceeded to try and pin her on the ground with a stomp. She managed to roll away and jump to her feet just in time, panting but still holding her stance. Another sonic wave went her way, which was promptly evaded and responded to, twofold.

                “Double Strike!” Two spinning kicks, two balls of energy. The man safeguarded to a table farther to his right, avoiding any damage and getting himself a shield, just as before. King swore under her breath, and barely had time to draw another when her nemesis leapt forward and took about a second to ready a particularly powerful kick. The bouncer readied to block, but when the strike came, it was so fierce that it sent her flying far again, only landing against a display of the barkeeper’s finest wines, breaking enough of them at once to send the owner himself in a short faint, and possibly King herself too, for the attack hurt her tremendously.

                “U-Ugh…!” She made considerable effort to get back to her feet. Apparently, the man gave her some few seconds to recover, but was now walking towards her again. Drawing strength from her reserves, she blocked the next punch, and stepped around the fighter to get away from a kick. She did get caught by a point-blank sonic wave, but shrugged off the pain for the sake of delivering some back.

                “Surprise... ” With a particularly strong knee attack, King knocked her opponent into the air, also having enough strength to follow it suit. That was her cue. “… Rose!” Quite against her body’s condition (and the laws of physics too), she managed to flip in mid-air so that her legs were turned against the enemy, then kicked away in a flurry that lasted no less than 9 kicks, and a particularly strong finisher that send the defending man crashing against the wall near the broken window of earlier.

                At this moment, King thought she had won the skirmish, for the man didn’t move for a few seconds. Soon, however, her attention was drawn for something else. His hood had been lowering slightly each second as the warrior stood motionless. It eventually dropped completely, and when it did, King herself was taken back in astonishment. It revealed two things. One was that the man sported no hairstyle other than a surprisingly long braided strand on the back of his head. The other was that the robe he wore actually extended up to his eyes, acting as a tight red blindfold, adorned with borders of golden cloth.

                So, the whole time they were fighting, the man had actually not been seeing a thing?

                He finally reacted after being struck savagely against the wall, by standing up and scratching his own head. He then pointed towards King.

                “You fight well. I was interested by this style of yours. Seems to be quite effective. I ought to train it sometime.”

                No reply. The woman was still flabbergasted for seeing the blindfold. He continued.

                “A man’s only true possession is his own body. Keeping it well is not only the way to health, but also of virtue. I respect you, so I shall take my leave. The man I await… well, he can wait for as long as necessary to have his wanted audience. Farewell.”

                “W-Wait!” King shot her arm forward to stop him, but ignoring it (or probably not seeing it anyway, because, you know), the blind man turned to the window and jumped out into the open in an instant. The woman pursued him as far as the window, but having failed to see the direction he would take, she couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

                “… Geez.” She sighed, dropping on to a free chair close by and wiping the sweat off her head with both hands. “That was intense. Who in the world was that guy?”

                She scrolled her eyes over the mayhem they had caused. Some people were still in the defensive on their tables and chairs, but most had left _en masse_ , so most furniture was knocked off place by their fighting in an incoherent fashion. That was the least of her problems, however, as liters of wine were spilled on a corner of the room, and one window was permanently to be left open now, with half-broken glass shards hanging dangerously from it.

                At the time, however, the local clock had struck 9:30, and King just so happened to glance over it at that time. A sly smile crossed her face.

                “… Well! Not for me to deal with, as of this minute.” She stood up again. “Poor Volt, though. He might have a really hard day. If there are guys like that blind monk appearing at this hour, I’m hoping no fighters like Wolfy appear and go awry, or it’ll be one heck of a problem.”

                With that, she walked away softly, leaving the entire chaos, the knocked-out bar owner and the jazzy music behind her for the day.


End file.
